Hating,Needing,Wanting
by ShayRyder
Summary: Sam's come to a realisation that's tearing him apart.' As Sam looked over his own face he could not say he was proud at what he saw'. Headaches, nightmares, visions? Pre-Series. Sam 16. Dean 19. Teenchester Teen!chester. Hurt . Angst. Sam/Jess
1. Sorrow

CHP 1. SORROW

**Hi guys! This is the same concept for my other story 'here and now' But I've pretty much given up on it. But don't worry jess will appear. But a little more angst. And hopefully better. Enjoy!**

Sam had changed these past few years and he knew it. He was no longer the chubby 12 year old named Sammy. He was a young man who had seen many things, been through many hardships. And grown-up too fast. He didn't hold himself higher than others because of this, but he did hold himself apart.

Sam had little to no friends in Johnstown High School. Sam had recently avoided all human interaction outside his family.

Dean had of course noticed, but choose not to say anything. Dean had knocked it down to Sam finally accepting the isolation of a hunters life. Dean himself had not had a friend out of the hunting community since he was in elementary. And was glad Sam had realised that those outside can only cause pain. Unless of course it's a one night stand, that on the other hand, was a whole other form of stress relief.

Sam himself would not say what one reason was responsible for his new look on life. Sam had thenhad thrown himself into hunting. He trained more than even his father called for.

He often skipped homework or study to visit the local park to run laps and run himself dry on various other strenuous activity's. He often came home tired ,worn and sore. His school work suffered horribly as research for a hunt became top priority.

Sam wasn't driven by the need to change his fathers opinion of him. But anger.

Anger that he would never lead a normal life. Anger at never having a friend for more than three months. Anger that he would never join a sports team. Anger that he would never got to college. Anger that he would never marry. Anger that he would never be safe. Anger that he would die young.

A normal existence was out of the question. His father made that clear. He had a responsibility, an obligation. To what? Save the world at sixteen? Fight evil?

All this on his shoulders because he knew the worlds greatest secret. And the reason he knew this secret.. Because he killed his own mother. And then this anger turned in on himself.

Sam by now had deducted that he was his mothers murderer. At first it was unclear to him. Only a dark dream, that came as his only nightmare.

He would be laying on his back unable to move in darkness. Only look at a shrouded ceiling. A shadow in the already dark place would fall over him. Fear clouding him .Then a soft mellow sound, calming, a voice perhaps but he could not distinguish it. A darker voice more sinister comes soon after, Sam can tell he should know what this voice says, its important. A warm drip falls upon his lips. A bitter taste. Then movement a whooshing sound, a cut-off scream, then silence. And the last sound is the slow pit pat of warm liquid upon his forehead.

Then one night it came to him as his gasped awake covered in his own sweat and tears . The dripping a familiar feeling as it is the warm drops of blood. Sam was bombarded with emotions. His fist tearing at his sheets. This one tiny detail and then he knew it deep in his bones. As he must have always. She died for him. It came together slowly. The scream, he knew that voice, that sound ,as every child retains some memory of their mothers voice even if repressed. Though not completely clear to him how this was true. He knew it was true. Why his father could sometimes not look him in the eye. Why he hated him.

Sam couldn't take it, he needed something, some kind of outlet for what he was feeling. He scrambled quickly from his bed trying to fend of tears with quick gasping breaths. He stumbled to the bathroom down the hall. Shutting and locking the door behind him. Sam went slowly to his knees. Tightly shutting his eyes, taking slow gasping breathes as his nails clawed at the floor. He bowed his head and began shakily sobbing.

Sam could only think that he was the only reason for all the pain in his family's life. All the sorrow. Without him his Dad would be happy instead of the tortured bitter soul he was today. Dean would be living a normal cookie cutter life. None of this would of happened. He should have never been born.

Sam slid his seated self into the bathroom wall pressing painfully against it. He fisted his hands in his hair and let out a soundless scream. His lips quivered and his face turned red with the effort. Pulsing veins pushed out on his forehead.

His father hated him, he hated everything he was. And Dean, poor unknowing Dean who had always been there for him. Who had raised him. Dean who loved him. Dean had never know. If he did he would surely feel as his father did now.

Sam then thought that the one good thing his father had done for him was not tell Dean. But perhaps that was for Deans sake not his. So that Dean wouldn't have to be tormented by Sam simply for living, and constantly remind of his mothers death as his father clearly was.

Sam was violently shaking now. His bare shoulders rising and falling with stuttered gasp. Sam brought his hand up to his face trying to wipe the tears. He shakily began to stand using the wall for support. His eyes now dry. He stopped for a moment leaning his face against the wall and listened to the sounds of the house. Making sure he had not waken anyone. There was the soft creak of the roof as the wind brushed by but no other sound. Sam was well practised in silent sorrow.

Sam turned himself completely away from the wall with his eyes still closed and slowly opened them. He was still in darkness he had neglected to switch on the light. As Sam did so, it flickered for a few seconds before his bent figure leaning on the counter became clear in the mirror.

Sam stood at least two inches taller then Dean now. He could no longer be called thin. But lean and well built, but still with narrow shoulders unlike Deans. Sam had four prominent scars on his chest and one on his abdomen and each had a story. Sam's hands were large with long nimble fingers. They were well calloused and worn, and two of his nails were growing back. As Sam looked over his own face he could not say he was proud at what he saw. Sam's eyes were clearly bloodshot and red and puffy around. His entire face had the sheen of sweat and tears. The scar on his lip stood out more then ever on his pale face. He had splotches of clashing red on his cheeks. And Sam's eyes, held no sorrow, no anger no nothing.

For Sam had decided he was done. He no longer hoped for an escape from the hunters life. He no longer deserved it. He didn't wish for his fathers love or understanding, every insult was well deserved. He would become determined and efficient. But neither would he lay down and take any insult. He would become stronger and better in everyway.

**REVIEW. CONSTRUCTIVE CRITISM is more than welcome in fact I want it. Anything you hated anything you want changed etc. Oh and plot ideas are welcome. Not promising it will happen though. So REVIEW! Possible hurt Sam in later chapters.**


	2. Eyes

**Enjoy!**

CHP 2. EYES

It had been a month since Sam had to decided to change everything, about who he was. What he wanted.

Now he was a little thinner a little paler. But really he was just distant.

He didn't laugh and smile with Dean like he used to. Now he just sat in his room pouring over ancient texts and survival techniques. Sam had indeed retained his talent of research and books, but his focus had differed. Now not only did he practise in various forms of combat he also read up on them.

Sam was sitting crossed legged on his creaking bed. His back arched as peered down into the large book in his lap. His darks locks falling into his eyes, he sighed and brushed it back with a calloused hand.

Sam flinched hearing the creak of the floor in the hall and the distinct footsteps of Dean as he approached. Sam didn't want to talk to him again. All he every talked about was Sam's 'teenage brooding'.

Sam knew this was true as of late. He had decided that he would no longer roll in self pity , and not cause Dean any more unhappiness.

So Sam rolled his neck on his shoulders hearing his neck crack. And tried to alter his face to a normal but happy expression.

Dean swiftly opened the door and leaned on its frame.

'Samantha, I'm getting dinner. Cheese burger or salady wrap thingy?'

'Oh' was Sam's reply.

'What's wrong with you? You look constipated.'

'Nothing.' said Sam 'Wraps fine.'

Dean clicked his tongue and nodded. Closing the door with a click.

Sam felt slightly disappointed even if it made no sense. Dean hadn't come to 'talk' with him. But he quickly wiped it from his mind. He shouldn't have such trivial thoughts like that. It didn't matter Dean was probably over his concern, for now at least which was a good thing.

Sam went to bed that night with not having said one word to anyone out-side the run down rented home. And only a bare few to Dean. School was tomorrow. Usually that would cheer him up. But really he had no feeling towards it.

His first three class pasted in blur. Nothing really stuck in his head . His reputation in this school wasn't like in ones previous. He was regarded as a loner. And by his teachers lazy. Not quite thin enough or short enough to be targeted by anyone. He was unseen.

As the bell rung and Sam was walking through the hallways. A small mass flew by him and hit the lockers next to him. They shook with the clatter. Quickly turning Sam saw that it was a girl. She was about his age. Short and thin nothing special but pretty. With long golden hair to her chest. She had a thin face a narrow jaw and a straight set nose. Her bright blue eyes were glaring up frown her crouched position on the ground at a tall short haired boy with a varsity jacket.

'Whore' he spat out before storming away.

'Asshole!' she yelled after him.

Sam had been standing there for but a second as this played out.

He looked down to find her pulling herself up and patting down her hair. She frowned at its state.

Sam leaned over and began picking up her books.

'Here' he said handing the stack down to her 'You okay?'

'Yeah fine, you know I could of picked those up myself. New right? You probably don't know who your helping.'

'Your right' Sam said. Putting out his hand. 'I'm Sam.'

'Jess' she said shuffling her books to one arm and shaking his hand.

'But you probably shouldn't be seen to talking to me its not the best idea.' Jess said her eyebrows coming together. Sam couldn't help but notice how cute this small girl with the serious face was.

'Well, I've never been one for bright ideas.' Sam said with a smirk.

She smiled back, brushing her hair out of her face.

'Well, see you around.' And walked away.

Sam stood there leaning against the lockers a slight smile on his face as he watched her walk away. His day was brighter then , his guilt not foremost on his mind.

Sam could walk home from this school. As Dean saw it close enough and safe enough.

As Sam strolled home his feet slapping on the side walk. He felt something at the back of his neck.

He spun around looking at the quiet road behind him. He could almost feel eyes on him. Then he felt something sharper, pain almost. It began to intensify. A sharp stabbing in the back of his skull. It came again and again. It sliced at his mind till he could no longer think. Sam clenched his teeth , gripping his head. His body shook with the pain. He let out a low groan. Then suddenly as he closed his eyes. Lights, images flashing on the back of his eyelids he couldn't make sense of them. Then he was falling. The pavement rushed up to meet him. Then dark.

**REVIEW! Even with one word. Bad, good, okay. Etc.**

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	3. Unknown

Sam could hear the sound of nearby cars, feel a could breeze brush by his cheek. Sam slowly cracked his eyes open, he could feel his face pressed into the pavement. Squinting he realized he was laying in a soft yellow glow. Street lamps.

Shocked Sam realized it was night and he was laying on the side of the road. Sam rolled over onto his front, his bones ached. From laying there? Sam slowly and stiffly began raising himself from the cold ground. He could feel the indent the pavement left on his cheek.

Looking around, the street was deserted. It had been hours since he left from school. What the hell had happened, determined to stay calm. He decided he would figure it out only when he returned home. Reaching into his pocket he found his cell phone to be depleted of all power. How long had he been here? He had to go home , Dean was probably in a state by now.

As Sam took his first step to continue home. He hissed in pain holding his foot off the ground gingerly. On further inspection he found his ankle to be swollen and sore, sprained most likely. Cautiously Sam began a full body inspection. Sam patted his hands over his torso feeling his dusty jacket. Dusty? Sam looked down to find a film of dirt covering his lower half. Dusting himself off Sam also discovered an egg sized bump on the back off his head presumably from his fall. A red and purple bruise beginning on his right hip spreading up on to his back all the way to his neck in splotchy patches. And a general all round ache.

What the hell had he been doing?. Lying here on the side of the road? No, Dean would of found him easy and how could no one else seen him? So then where did he go?

But Sam had to continued on, home is were he could deal with this. He just needed to get home. He had to talk to Dean, even Dad. But Dean would know what to do.

Sam slowly limped up the walk way to the front door. Favouring his right leg he slowly ascended the wooden stairs of the porch they creaked under his weight. Just as his finger tips were a breath away from the the door knob. It flew open with a smack and a gust of air. There stood his father glock half cocked in his direction eyes ablaze. At the sight of Sam standing stock still in the doorway the gun was quickly lowered and a flash of emotion travelled across his features before they reverted back to there stone cold gaze.

'Where the hell have you been Sam Whinchester!' speckled spit flew. 'You arrogant child ,you ask MY permission to stay behind school hours.'

His face was scrunched into anger and desperation.

'Something could happen to you Sam, you are never safe, we are never safe. You act so irresponsibly for what to make a point, to be normal? Normal kids can do what they want can't they Sam? But guess what you are not normal, you know what's out there and you can never be rid of it . They're just ignorant.'

Sam could see his father boiling up to his grand finale, red blossomed on his cheeks spreading till he was a red and ripe as a tomato.

'FUCK! Sam you will never be normal.'

Oh the irony Sam thought something could happen? Yeah no shit. Sam opened his mouth to form some sort of defence to ask for help but he was already hunched over in defeat. He knew he couldn't say it now.

'Not a word Sam. Not a god damn word.' He reached and pulled him forcefully inside by the collar. Sam hastily follow behind. Feeling his body protest to the harsh treatment.

'Upstairs Sam, up to your room, I call Dean and tell him to stop looking. John eyes were glued to Sam's back as he walked up the stairs head up back straight, no limp ,no hobble.

Sam felt truly defeated and sore, but he wouldn't give his father the satisfaction of seeing that. Walking to his room he thought only of how he disappointed Dean.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxOkay so I know Sam a bit overly angsty and mellow dramatic and unreasonable but I swear there is an actual cause. Hes not just being irrational. So anyway Review, Even with ideas etc. :]

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	4. Yellow

**Sorry to everyone following that this took so long. Appreciate the support. And my five reviewers Thankyou! **

**CookieKlaineClan**** you totally reminded me this story was sitting here neglected so thanks for the push.**

**murphy9202**** , ****LeighAnnWallace**** , ****AmaraRae**** Sorry for the wait! Hope you enjoy. **

**friendly ****Hurt Sam huh? Well there plenty more where that came from…I'm evil :)****  
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* * *

Sam lay on his deflating mattress and let the dull ach radiate through his body. Sam wasn't thinking about much, he was just blank. Too confused and sore to really process how this could of happened.

But as soon as he heard the front door open and close his mind immediately flew to Dean. It had been about an hour since Sam had returned, so Dean must of pulled all the stops to be arriving this late. Sam let the guilt sink in and settle.

It was always him why couldn't he just disappear. Sam heard his brother approach. But the heavy footfalls ceased outside his door. He could hear Deans breathing and he knew Dean could hear his. It was Deans way of subtly checking up on him. Or so Dean thought, for as long as Sam could remember any time he was in bed, Dean would come in and check constantly on him. But as the kid grew older Dean had acquired more silent methods, as not to let Sam know he was as concerned as he had always been since the night their home exploded in flames.

Both brothers remained on opposite sides of the rotting door, both listening to the others quiet breaths neither aware of the others thoughts. After a few minutes Dean left, walking to his own room but the barrier remained between them.

After Sam rooted through his bags side pockets and pulled out some old painkillers he drifted of to an unsettled sleep.

* * *

He was being dragged, pulled by the back of his collar his side thumping along the ground. Sam could hardly see, everything was blurry as if in a haze. But he could tell the sky was darker, evening perhaps? And the ground a deep rust color, the desert.

Time passed and before he knew what had happened he was thrown hard against a metallic wall, his head smacking with a resounding ring. Clearly they had arrived. The haze mussed in a mass of colors as Sam's head throbbed and pain spiked up through his skull.

He felt panicked as he lay curled on his side, he had no idea where he was and how he got there and his second smack to head had left him drowsy and his sight was all messed up. There was no way he could get up and walk.

Then voices, lots of voices, too many too loud came rushing at him. It was overwhelming. Sam covered his ears with his hands. Pushing with his feet as he scrabbled away as they got closer and louder. Till he hit a corner. There was no meaning to distinguish, just hatred mockery and the most barest evil. Sam knew then he was hearing what no human should ever hear. It stripped him of all his walls. He felt exposed and he was being shredded mentally. Every hope and dream was being crushed, all his hope gone. He was left only with self hate and despair. Sam began desperately crawling away along the dusty floor in a futile attempt to escape. But a hand clutched his ankle, the touch cent such a shock up his body he jerked and spasmed to get away. Twisting his ankle painfully. Till finally the icy grip relented and let go.

Finally after what seemed like hours the voices faded away. He was now shivering in sweat although he was freezing. And then Sam dared to open his eyes. He was met with yellow, a dark sickening yellow. A pair of eyes not a hairs breath from his own. Sam choked in shock, jumping back. Those eyes.

Then the eyes shoved its own wrist up to Sam's moth and covered his nose. Sam's eyes bugged out as he tried to breath his face turning a shade of red. Till he had no choice but to gag down the bitter substance.

Sam lay there exhausted, the eyes came up close again. Sam was now terrified shaking not from the cold but from fear. The the eyes spoke with a sneer. _'__Winchester__'_

Sam shot out of bed. He heaved in deep breaths, sweat trickling down the side of his face. Sam had no what that was. Just a bizarre dream his mind had associated with his nightmare. No real meaning just a dream. Sam lay back , trying to breath slowly. Turning over he resumed his fitful rest. All the while the eyes were watching.

**REVEIW! Thanks for reading tell me if you liked.**


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